


Don't Cry

by unchartedelissa (elissanerdwriter)



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7502325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elissanerdwriter/pseuds/unchartedelissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate is angry and alone. Well, sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Cry

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a prompt sent to someone else on tumblr that basically said "I want blubbering, broken Nate" and I was like "Oh, so do I" and then realized "I can do that." So I did that.

Nate pushed the door to the hotel room open with as much force as he could manage, the resonating bang not nearly as satisfying as he’d hoped it’d be. He slammed his bag down on the table, grimacing as the movement pulled at the slashes in his shoulder but immediately growling and tearing the zipper open anyway. In the top of the bag was a jacket; he yanked it out, throwing it on the bed. Right under it was a small picture, reflecting the light coming through the window so he couldn’t see its subjects, but he knew who they were. He made a strange noise almost like a gasp and looked away, pulling it out blindly and shoving it across the table, where it fell off the edge and fluttered to the floor. He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, before looking back at the bag and continuing to unpack it. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think.

His adrenaline kick was starting to fade, and he moved slower and slower until finally stalling, staring blankly at the bag. He dropped into a chair. There were only a few items left in it, but he couldn’t make himself touch them. Two shirts to fit a smaller frame than his, a watch in a box, and a lighter. He took one long, hard breath, then another, and then one more, and finally slumped on the table next to them, burying his head in his arms. His shoulder screamed at him, but he bit his lip, furiously trying to ignore it. He didn’t deserve to be defeated by that pain. He shouldn’t even be feeling it. It was his fault anyway.

All his fault.

Nate pressed on his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to stop the tears. He had to get up, he had to keep moving, he had to get out of this goddamn country. He didn’t have time to cry. His body felt impossibly heavy, but he dragged himself to a standing position and walked over to the closet. He tugged down the first aid kit, knocking a hanger to the floor, and staggered back towards the table. Hands shaking, he pried open the case and found a bandage and some antiseptic before pulling off his shredded shirt, gritting his teeth. Cleaning out the shallower cuts stung like hell, but with each swipe he told himself that he deserved every second of the pain. When he couldn’t take it any longer he grabbed the roll of bandages, wrapping his shoulder as best he could. He stumbled back to his feet to go back to the closet, forgetting that he had brought the kit to the table. The bottle of antiseptic promptly slid out of his hand, the cap popping off as it hit the floor and rolled everywhere. Swearing softly, he let go of the bandages as he dropped to his knees to pick up the bottle and groaned loudly as it too rolled away. He leaned his head on the bed for a second before standing slowly to chase it.

His leg hit the side of the bed and he lost his balance, falling onto his back on the jacket.

Oh God, it smelled just like him.

Nate couldn’t help it. He rolled over and tugged the jacket close to him, pressing it to his face as he started to sob in earnest. He was exhausted and in pain and probably still bleeding all over the sheets, but he couldn’t do any more. He couldn’t make himself look at the bag on the table with her shirts, the presents he was going to give them. He couldn’t look at the picture he’d dropped, the three of them grinning. He couldn’t look at the jacket, even as he buried his face in it. He couldn’t think about them. He couldn’t think.

He’d almost exhausted his tears when he heard a soft knock on his door and sat up quickly, hissing at the pain and grabbing his shoulder. “I said do not disturb, does that mean anything to you?”

The door opened anyway, and he looked at it irritatedly, clenching his fists. To his surprise, a woman came in, her red shirt torn in several places. “Chloe?”

“Nate? What are you doing here? I thought- Where’s Sully and Elena?”

Nate dug his fingernails into his shoulder, inhaling sharply. “They’re gone.”

She came further into the room, stopping at the sight of the mess he’d made. “What do you mean, gone? Did they leave already?”

Why did he have to spell it out for her? “They’re dead, Chloe. Sully and- and Elena are dead. They both got shot, right in front of me, and I- I couldn’t do anything, I just ran like the damn coward I am. So now they’re- they’re-” He punched the bed with his free hand.

Chloe bent over to pick up the roll of bandages, her face hidden. “Are you- are you sure?” Her voice caught.

“Yes, I’m damn sure. They’re dead, and I’d like to stop talking about it now.” He laid back on the bed again, face twisting with pain.

She came over and sat beside him. He could tell she was trying to control her expression, but her shock wasn’t hidden at all. “I- Nate, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to bring them back, is it?” His voice cracked, and that was the only they both got before he started sobbing again. He didn’t try to move, just lifted his hands to his face. He didn’t have the energy to hide any longer.

He felt her fingers brushing his arm, with more gentleness than he thought she possessed. After a moment she laid down beside him, resting her head on his good shoulder and continuing to run her hand up and down his arm. A soft noise reached him and he realized she was crying too, quiet sniffs and tears soaking into his shirt.

“Why do they all have to leave me?”

His voice was shaky, almost like a plea, and she didn’t respond. She laid her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and his breaths as if to make sure they were still there. He took her hand gently, and the two of them laid still, feeling the loss of their friends more than any injury.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback and general comments are always appreciated! You can find me on tumblr at unchartedelissa.


End file.
